


Silence and Tears

by Higgystar



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, character exploration, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 12:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1305547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the Episode 'Inmates' in Season 4. Just Daryl's thoughts throughout the episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence and Tears

They’d risked a fire, daring to allow some light for the two of them for some kind of comfort. Little good it was doing them. Daryl still felt empty. It had been a long time since he’d felt like this, sitting on the floor, arms on his knees and staying curled up, suddenly fearful of what lay ahead. Sure things hadn’t been perfect in the prison, but it had been a home with people he considered his family.

He was getting so sick of people promising to be there and then leaving.

Beth is talking, not even keeping her voice low as she talks to him, well at him. It’s like she can’t keep the worry and want inside of herself anymore so she’ll tell him about it, even if he doesn’t respond. It reminds him of how people would talk to their dog, or a child speaking to a cuddly toy.

Seeing the pain in her eyes causes him to look away again, watching the flames and ignoring how in pain she looks. Poor girl had lost her father, maybe her sister, the baby that she’d become a surrogate mother to, and everyone else that had ever meant anything to her. Them. To them. He should say something, do something to help her, to make her feel better, but he’s never known what to do when it came to other people.

It had been different before, he knew his place in the group. He was the hunter, the protector, Rick’s confidant, the uneducated red neck who had found a world he could thrive in. In a group he had had a place. As a duo? He was completely lost.

It didn’t help that it was Beth either. Not that he didn’t like the girl, hell she’d been there long enough for him to see her as the sister he’d never had. He’d watched her squabble with Maggie over something trivial before and God he’d been reminded of himself and Merle when they were younger. She was nice enough but she was young and inexperienced with the world. Sure they’d been on the road through the winter together but before then the girl had been protected in her farmhouse with her family, then there was the nice safe prison where she never left the walls.

Now here she was, having lost the only family she had left and looking to him for reassurance of some kind. He doesn’t respond when she goes on about other survivors. He holds out no hope for them. Yes they’re better prepared than they had been at the start, but they’d gotten complacent, comfortable in the prison and now life was topsy turvey again with no transport, no supplies and no idea about a plan. It made him feel on edge and lost.

Rick would know what to do. He’d know the right words to say, how to give comfort and let Beth know it was all going to be all right, they’d find a place and he’d keep her safe from the dangers of the outside world. The flames burn a little higher as Beth gets frustrated, standing and yelling. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her to keep quiet. When had his advice ever been worth it anyway?

She storms off, all frustrated teenager and determination, face screwed into a pinched look as she heads off, strong for all of her wavering voice. Daryl stands and kicks out the fire, taking up his crossbow and slowly following. The tree’s branches sway in the breeze and glancing up at the canopy he walks a bit faster to catch up to Beth, not wanting to lose her.

Not wanting another Sophia.

They have no idea who is or isn’t alive. They really could be the only ones left and then he’d have to step up instead of blindly following Beth’s plan like some loyal guard dog. He should step up, Merle was always telling him to man up, right now it felt as if he’d never learned how.

He just had no idea what to do. This wasn’t like the farm, there was no obvious place to go and meet up, no highway and marker they could look for. So where should they head? What if he made the wrong choice? What if something happened to Beth and he was alone? Kicking at the leaves he still can’t bring himself to say a word to her, sympathies and pity faltering in his throat, he’s no good at this. But he’s an adult, she’s barely even hit her twenties, he should take charge, be in control and make sure they were safe and doing something productive.

The best he can do is hand her a neckerchief to gather some grapes in, supplies for when they find the others, in case they were hungry.

His own stomach feels so hollow he’s sure he couldn’t face a bite. Beth seems so calm, and though he’s not speaking his mind is in complete turmoil, still at least she isn’t crying, he cannot cope with crying.

When they come across the walkers he knows what to do and does it well with an efficiency and violence he wasn’t sure he had anymore. She’s whimpering and he’s killing and defending her, some part of him angry for her being surprised, that he’d had to save her and she hadn’t even gotten a swing in. It hurts, but he’s the most comfortable out here and she’s so young, she’s not ready for this. Each arrow hits its target easily and he’s careful to grab every single one of them, ammo is life and right now both are dangerously low to being lost.

They continue to the tracks and yet again he’s at a loss. Dispatching the walkers he tries to take stock of the situation, to use this landmark as a sign, a place to start in answering the question of what the hell to do. Ripping the arrow from one body he uses it to stab at the head of another walker, blinking back the memories of the prison, the look on that guys face when he’d shot him in the chest.

No. this was the same as that. Survival. Pure and simple. If there was one thing he could do it was survive, he just had to make sure Beth would to.

The tracks lead off beyond his line of sight and he begins to trudge along them slowly, freezing when he hears Beth finally break down and start to cry. Daryl’s shoulder’s tense automatically, hating the sound of tears, thinking of the barn, the CDC, Carol in the RV, Andrea over Amy, and his mom through too thin walls as he buried his face in Merle’s chest. Clenching his bow tighter he turns to her, hating the sight of the stronger than he thought young woman crumbling before him.

He wants to tell her to move, to follow, he knew where they were going and her family would be there waiting. That they were going to find the others and a new place to be safe, where she could mourn her daddy properly and everyone would be there safe and not bit. A place where she could have a future and not have to cry anymore.

Daryl bites his lip, scuffs his boots at the floor before turning to continue up the tracks, hoping she’ll follow and not saying a word.


End file.
